


You Were Only Waiting

by astraplain



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 04:33:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3923056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astraplain/pseuds/astraplain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam is having a very strange day</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Were Only Waiting

“Learn to see ,” a woman hissed into Adam’s ear while pressing a scrap of paper into his hand.

“Excuse me?” Adam stammered out just in time to watch the black-clad Asian beauty with the blue streak in her raven hair disappear into the crowd.

Adam considered giving chase for about ten seconds before deciding in favor of reading the paper she gave him. Half a block up on the left was a coffee shop. Adam fought his way along the crowded street to the door and escaped inside where it was cool and relatively calm.

One overpriced cup of tea later, he was safely seated at a table near the back frowning at the mystery woman’s cryptic message. “2419 Harrison. 16-37-8.”

There was a Harrison Hall at NYADA, one of the older and less favored buildings. It was mostly used for intro classes although it also had some rehearsal spaces. If Adam remembered correctly, there were lockers lining some of the halls.

His memory proved correct, but it took him a while to find 2419 tucked away in a dim corner where the overhead light flickered weakly. Adam dialed the combination on the shiny new lock and it gave way with a satisfying click.

He took the plain brown envelope, tucking it into his backpack before making sure there was nothing else in the locker. He closed it and spun the lock, casting a nervous glance around before leaving the building.

The feeling that he was being watched grew as he made his way to the subway so he held onto his backpack tightly and resisted the urge to look at the envelope.

Adam was almost home when a young man in a wheelchair emerged from an alley and nearly ran into him.

“Blackbird’s don’t warble,” the man said as he wheeled past. Adam turned to ask what he meant only to feel someone slip something into his back pocket. It might have been the lovely blonde, but with so many people on the street, Adam couldn't be sure.

Home at last, Adam checked his pocket first and found a ticket for that evening’s performance of “Sweet Bird of Youth”. He had no idea what any of this might mean, but he’d never seen that show and fortunately, he had the night off.

The contents of the envelope did nothing to ease Adam’s confusion. There was a claim ticket for a nearby dry-cleaners, a receipt for a florist and a gift certificate for a nice restaurant that, if he wasn't mistaken, was close to the theater where he’d be seeing the play tonight.

“Alright then,” he told himself before heading to the dry cleaner’s. The florist was in the same area so he’d stop there too and hopefully find out what all this meant.

Two hours later he returned home with a gorgeous new suit and a boutonniere, no closer to understanding what any of this meant. Neither the florist nor the clerk at the dry cleaners had been able to answer any of his questions. Adam’s friends had offered plenty of wild theories, but no useful information.

In the end he fixed himself some tea and decided to enjoy the mystery.

+++

Ten minutes before curtain, Adam arrived at the theater in his new suit, boutonniere in place. He’d spent longer than usual getting ready and had been willing to admit - to his reflection - that he looked good.

“This way, sir.” The usher led Adam to the front row where he was seated next to the blonde he’d seen on the street earlier. At the end of the row was the man in the wheelchair. Adam looked at the rest of the people seated around him and had the vague sense of recognition. He wanted to speak to them, but they were all engaged in conversation and he hated to interrupt so he fumbled with his playbill, but didn't open it.

There were two empty seats to Adam’s right and just as the house lights dimmed, the people arrived. Adam gave them only a cursory nod, but had to turn and look again when he realized one of the women was Santana.

Before he could speak, the curtain rose and the Kurt Hummel was standing there impossibly more beautiful than the last time Adam had seen him.

At intermission, Adam practically leaped from his seat, turning to Santana with a flood of questions. She stopped him with a look.

“He’ll be waiting for you backstage.” She laughed at Adam’s expression of delight and confusion. “You’re taking him to dinner.”

“I suppose I am,” Adam agreed, patting the jacket pocket where he carried the restaurant certificate. “Were you all in on it?” He asked, drawing the blonde named Quinn into the conversation.

“Of course,” Santana gestured toward the stage. “He’s been more of a control freak than usual since he and Blaine divorced.” She softened a little before adding, “At least he finally got his break.”

“It’s long overdue,” Adam agreed, thinking of the many articles he’d read about Rachel over the last two years. In truth, he’d had to force himself to stop looking for Kurt’s name everywhere. That’s why he’d had no idea that Kurt had taken over the lead in this play.

“You’re not doing too bad yourself,” Santana said before adding, “Kurt keeps a freaking scrapbook. If I still lived with him, I’d have tossed him out a window by now.”

“Then I’m glad you’re not his roommate,” Adam informed her solemnly. He’d never quite known how to take Santana’s ‘jokes’, nor had he understood her relationship with Kurt. “Do I have you to thank for… well, everything, tonight?”

“It was Britt’s idea,” Santana looked over at the tall blonde who was talking to the man in the wheelchair. For a moment, there was a look of utter devotion on her face and it did much to soothe Adam’s uncertainly about Santana’s motives.

“Then I thank you both. Even if nothing comes of this…” It had been a long, mostly lonely two years and, although Adam was no longer bitter about their break up, he still regretted not fighting for Kurt. He’d learned many things in those two years and, if he and Kurt were still right for each other, Adam wouldn't let him get away again.

“If you can make each other happy, stop being idiots and do it already,” Santana snapped, dropping into her seat as the lights dimmed.

“I will,” Adam promised, speaking to himself more than to Santana.

As the second act played out, the day’s earlier mention of blackbird stuck in his mind. When the play ended and the actors had taken their bows, Adam thanked Santana and her friends.

When he walked backstage, he knew that this was the moment he’d been waiting for. Kurt was his blackbird, and this was, finally, their time to fly.

 

::end::


End file.
